


memory like a light (memory like a knife)

by kidcarma



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Past Kamukoma, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Scars, Trans Hinata Hajime, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, depictions of surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma
Summary: “Can’t sleep?” Komaeda’s hoarse voice finally cuts through the static of his mind.“No,” Hinata admits with a defeated sigh, drags his hands down his face, then pushes them up, fingers threading through his hair and tugging at the root. “I can stay on my side of the bed if it’s bothering you.”...“Hajime,” Komaeda mumbles against the curve of his mouth. “You’re talented at everything except taking care of yourself. So let me do this for you. Okay?”
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 10
Kudos: 363





	memory like a light (memory like a knife)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS ONE IS FOR THE BIRTHDAY BOY!!!!!!!!! everyone say happy birthday rav!! i hope you enjoy your gift :')

Having your chest split open is a special sort of agony.

It’s indescribable, really, not that Hinata is even concerned with describing it- the white hot blinding pain consuming him whole leaves very little room for coherent thought like that.

Still, it seems that the people above him are oblivious to his pain, staring into the cavity of his abdomen they’ve got clamshelled open, his mouth shaping desperately around pleading words that just won’t come. Tries to move, but his limbs won’t listen to him, and they feel like lead.

  
How do they not realize? They’ve got his ribcage peeled back, organs exposed, how do they _not_ see the way his heart is picking up speed?  
It’s thrumming so violently within him, Hinata swears, it’s drowning out the obnoxious beeping, making his half lidded vision swim amidst all the panic of the pain he’s in, the panic of being constricted and tangled in all the wires they’ve got him hooked up to. 

The only thing he can think to do is try again- keep trying. Try until they’ve noticed his lips are stuck around a silent scream, trapped inside his mind and rattling at the confines of his skull for them to _please notice._

Please.

The crescendo of beeping, heat racing, pleading, ringing in his ears builds and builds until it’s almost as good as silence.

And in that brief respite, Hinata manages one broken, helpless thought.

_I don’t want this anymore._

But it’s too late to turn back. And of a trap of his own making, does he even have the right to wish he’d chosen differently? To wish it were some other poor soul writhing in anguish in his place on the operating table? To wish that he’d listened. To have known talent wasn’t everything. 

Talent isn’t everything. But that’s all he’s going to be now.

Among the sudden shouting, and the comforting warmth that floods his veins like molten iron, finally some morphine to spare for the world’s ultimate hope- Hinata’s eyes flicker shut. And as the room fades away around him, he knows it’s going to be an ugly scar.  
  


That’s the thought he jolts awake to, instinctively pressing the palm of his hand to his sternum as he comes to with an utterance of “fuck.” Takes a few seconds to realize it was just a dream, and even then, continues to grip desperately at his chest, as though the fear of falling apart is the only thing holding him together. That is, until he shudders and moves to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed, the sweat he’d accumulated in sleep now drenching his shirt, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin.   
He peels it off of his body, tosses it across the room, where it pools to the floor in a heap.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes so hard he sees stars. It’s better than the distant ache he feels beneath his rib cage- pains of scars long healed over, only just the memory. 

Sitting there is all he can think to do as the panic subsides, head cradled in his hands, the thought of getting up or getting back into bed not even striking him until the sweat on his body starts to cool and leaves him shivering.   
Unbothering to turn the light on as he stands- he doesn’t need it, not to see in the dark, one of the many gifts he’d been granted though that’s not an avenue of thought he wants to travel down tonight- because he doesn’t want to wake Komaeda. It’s far easier than it should be to tiptoe through their cabin and into the bathroom, only bothering to flick that light on once he’s shut the door behind him because mirrors in the dark do not bode well with him and they never have.

Hinata lets the water run, splashing it onto his face and patting it dry with a towel. Tries not to let the memory of antiseptic and rubber gloves and hospital gowns and doctors and surges creep in and fails miserably, and he’s so wrapped up in it all that when he exists the bathroom and shuts the door with the sigh, he’s almost caught off guard when a voice calls out to him from across the room. 

“Hajime?”

“Nightmare,” he explains simply, crossing the space and tucking himself back into bed, by Komaeda’s side. 

There are no apologies exchanged. The word ‘sorry’ falls to the wayside when they’ve both woken each other up in the middle of the night more times than they can count- it goes unspoken between them. 

Komaeda doesn’t have to offer anything other than his open arms, still groggy and mind addled with sleep, he holds Hinata close, and from there, it should be easy. It should be easy to fall back into the lull of a quiet slumber, in the arms of his lover, but it’s _not_. 

Faint beeping echoes in his ears, the distance sound of ocean waves doing nothing to counter it. No matter how hard his eyes are shut, his body won’t cooperate. 

And for Hinata, that’s hard. 

It’s hard because he can do almost _everything_ with varying degrees of success. More talents artificially implanted in his mind than he can count- why should falling asleep be more challenging than rocket science?   
The frustration tugs at him, the beginnings of a groan building up within him but he stuffs it down for Komaeda’s sake, shifting under the blankets as though that would even begin to relieve a fraction of his tension. He can do anything, so why can’t he do this?

Was it all for naught? What was the point of letting them rip him open, if he can’t even do something as simple as this? Rest. 

Hinata twists and turns again, Komaeda’s grip on him loosening to adjust for the movement. He stills. Shifts again. Stills. Counts each time the air flows in and out of his lungs, controlled inhaled and exhales that feel unnatural, robotic. So hard to breathe when the scars decorating his chest throb achingly.   
If Komaeda notices his forced breathing, or is bothered by the amount of wiggling Hinata’s doing, he doesn’t comment. Briefly, a pang of guilt strikes Hinata. Though it’s quickly overshadowed by the threat of a memory, of his dream that sneaks in and swallows him entirely.

“Can’t sleep?” Komaeda’s hoarse voice finally cuts through the static of his mind. 

“No,” Hinata admits with a defeated sigh, drags his hands down his face, then pushes them up, fingers threading through his hair and tugging at the root. “I can stay on my side of the bed if it’s bothering you.” 

“Not at all.” Komaeda’s touch is gentle as he pries the hands from Hinata’s hair, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “You’re always so strong, taking on the burden of hard work all by yourself. You never rely on the people who care about you. So let just me keep you company, it’s the least I could do.”

“Huh.” Hinata lets his eyes flicker shut as he indulges in the thought for just a moment. Until a sharp pang hits him from underneath his rib cage again. “Why with the sudden compliments?”

“No reason,” Komaeda hums. His embrace is safe. The fingers idly tracing circles into his back makes Hinata feel like he isn’t going to come apart at the seams. “I just think you don’t get shown enough appreciation for all that you do.” 

“Yeah,” Hinata grumbles. “I can renovate an entire island with nothing but my bare hands, but can’t get a few measly hours of sleep.”

“Some things are more difficult than others.”

“But this shouldn’t be,” the frustration is obvious in his tone. “Not for me.”

“Hey-“

Komaeda shuffles under the blankets, taking Hinata along with him in his grasp. The movement is by no means sudden or jolting, but it wracks a phantom pain through Hinata’s chest all the same, and he inhales with a sharp hiss. 

“Sorry,” Komaeda stalls immediately, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Did I-“

“No, no, you’re fine.” Hinata pinches the bridge of his nose. “My scars hurt.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

Komaeda is cautious, settling back into their position, maybe even excessively so. Careful not to jostle, it almost makes Hinata wince- to be treated like fragile glass- but remembers that it’s Komaeda’s love for him that makes him precious in the first place.   
With a whispered warning, Komaeda stretches his arm across the bedside table to turn the lamp on, and Hinata squints up at him, the yellow glow casting shadows over his features. 

“All of them?” Komaeda asks next, gaze pointed toward the scars etched across Hinata’s bare chest as he moves to straddle the other’s hips. The steady weight above Hinata is a comforting, grounding sort of pressure. 

“Mostly,” is the answer that he gives. 

“Let me take your mind off it, then.”

Despite himself, Hinata’s eyes flicker over to the clock on their nightstand. 

“It’s late. I don’t want to keep you awak-“

Perhaps it’s acceptable, being cut off with a kiss. 

“Hajime,” Komaeda mumbles against the curve of his mouth. “You’re talented at everything except taking care of yourself. So let me do this for you. Okay?” 

How can he argue with that?

“Okay.” 

“You really are so wonderful.”

A rush of air escapes Hinata, his lips quirking up into a small, amused smile.  
“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Komaeda insists. His mouth traces the line of Hinata’s jaw, leaving kisses as he goes. “Talented, brave, radiating with the brightest hope I’ve ever seen.”

Letting out a hum, Hinata tilts his head to the side, granting Komaeda easier access to the plane of his neck. Lips soft, brushing against the skin there, Hinata allows his eyes to slide closed again, choosing to focus on the warm tingly feeling Komaeda’s mouth leaves in its wake, rather than the dull throbbing harbored in every jagged scar on his body.  
Komaeda is tender as he goes, only the edges of his teeth scraping Hinata’s neck every so often, and it reminds him just how stark the contrast is. How those teeth have sunk so desperately into his shoulder, they left marks for days.

A pang of arousal runs through Hinata at the thought, in the same instance Komaeda begins to suck softly against a spot on his throat, the combination causing a muffled whine to rise from within Hinata.  
Komaeda’s laugh against him is a cool rush of air against the drying saliva there, it makes Hinata shudder.

“Cute.” The grin is audible in his voice.

“You say that about anything when it comes to me.”

“And I’m right.”

Before Hinata can protest again, Komaeda is kissing him again. And really, melting into the gesture is far more pleasant than giving his counterpart a hard time.  
The soft smacking sounds of their lips fills the air between them, fills Hinata’s ears, the rising temperature of his body beginning to win out against the pain. He supposes that _is_ the point of this whole thing. To be distracted from it. The soft sigh of contentment that escapes Hinata is more than enough to tell Komaeda he’s succeeding.  
Komaeda’s hand is cupping his cheek, keeping him steady as he grows more and more restless, the kiss more and more urgent, Komaeda’s other hand pressed against the mattress to support his own weight.

Hinata’s fingers tangle in his hair as though to hold him there, not willing to give up the sweet kisses just yet, the white strands tethering him to the present, keeping him from reliving the wretched nightmare of his past every time he lets his mind wander.  
His grip follows as Komaeda’s kisses begin to work their way downward, pausing at Hinata’s collarbone and only continuing down when given permission in the form of a nod. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore, Hinata realizes as Komaeda kisses the widest part of the scar that runs horizontal, just below his rib cage- at least, not in the same way. The ache is something sweet, rather than something regretful. 

“My Hajime,” Komaeda practically purrs against his chest, and those two words do more for Hinata’s state of arousal than he’d like to admit. He’s sure that even in the low light, if Komaeda were to look, he’d see the blush written plain across his face. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“If you like patchwork quilts, sure.”

“Did I say gorgeous?” Komaeda hums. He sinks his teeth into the skin around Hinata’s nipple- Hinata, who arches up reflexively into the touch. “I meant stubborn.”

“Hng- Nagito, _please_ -”

“What? You want more?” When the bite of condescension creeps into Komaeda’s words, Hinata swallows thickly. “Only if you promise to be good, and stop arguing with me. It really is so rude, when I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

“I-” The compliments have gone to his head- made him fuzzy, and warm. Too far gone to care, Hinata nods shamelessly, arching his chest up again into Komaeda’s touch, hoping to goad him on. “I’ll be good.”

“Good,” Komaeda murmurs, mouth immediately indulging as reward, biting, licking, sucking along what Hinata knows are the lines of scars on his stomach, because he has each one memorized by now. “Now where was I?”

He lifts himself up momentarily, the blanket slipping off to pool behind them, staring down at Hinata’s face, eyes crinkling up in a smile and it’s apparent that he’s revelling in his victory of having flustered Hinata far beyond the point of return.

“This one,” Komaeda brushes back his hair, pressing his lips to the marred line of skin wrapping across Hinata’s forehead. “For how smart you are.”

“This one,” his lips grace the faint line across Hinata’s heated cheek- it’s so faded, it’s easy to miss, especially among all of the others. “For how brave you are.”

Komaeda makes his way downward to the twin scars running over Hinata’s chest right under his pecs, and Hinata rolls his eyes as he says “they were kind enough to do this for me while I was on the operating table anyway, I guess.”

“I’ll be sure to write them a thank you note, then.” Komaeda kisses them each. “For how stunning you are.”

Stunning.

That word pulls another urgent sound out past Hinata lips, and as he tries to tilt his hips upward encouragingly, Komaeda’s hand presses him back down. The self satisfied smile doesn’t leave his face as he continues on, making a pointed effort to kiss across each scar with a syrupy sweet mutterance of affection.   
It’s the two syllables of ‘perfect’ that makes Hinata squirm, that and one of Komaeda’s hands which have moved to rub him through his boxers. If it’s supposed to placate him, it doesn’t only makes him voice the beginnings of a complaint, pitchy and impatient “ _Nagito_ -”

Snapping the elastic of the waistband is all Komaeda has to do to silence him, and Hinata is all too compliant in lifting his hips as Komaeda peels his boxers off, tossing them to the side. For all that he likes to deflect the compliments being showered upon him, the slick coating his inner thighs as he spreads his legs betrays just how much they affect him. 

Two fingers rub teasingly, sliding easily inside of him, the wind knocks from his lungs as Komaeda mumbles a “good boy.” 

No longer restrained, and fueled by the praise gone to his head, Hinata grinds down shamelessly into the hand at his core, head thrown back and groaning when Komaeda’s thumb presses against his clit. Rubbing in circles, it makes him spin, makes him scramble for purchase on whatever part of Komaeda’s body he can grab, clinging to him desperately. 

“Feels good?”

“Uh-huh,” Hinata manages to gasp out, too blissed out to care about the haughty tone of Komaeda’s rhetorical question. 

It’s the praise that’s got him so unabashedly vocal, Hinata realizes distantly- when Komaeda is sure to let him know just how good he sounds, it sends him closer to the edge than it should. Than is reasonable, really, considering Komaeda just started touching him, just started curling his fingers up to press against that spot inside him.  
It doesn’t take much after that, wound up tight like a rubber band and ready to snap, Hinata’s breaths come in short and stuttering as Komaeda works him up, up, up, and sends him over, has him seeing bursts of white behind his eyelids, heart hammering to flood his body with heat as he rides out his orgasm.

He can’t even bring himself to be at all embarrassed about how little that took- how easy Komaeda made him- not while he goes limp against the sheets, trying to draw in enough oxygen to quell the fire burning under his skin.

Komaeda’s hand caresses him for a few moments longer, lazily circling his clit until finally pulling away. 

So thoroughly bone tired, even Hinata is surprised by the sudden wind he gets upon seeing Komaeda lick the slick clean off of his own fingers.

“Fuck,” Hinata wheezes, sitting up as bringing his hand to the back of Komaeda’s head in order to pull him into a kiss, tasting himself on Komaeda’s tongue makes him shudder. His free hand scrambles to tug Komaeda’s boxers down. 

“You want to go again?” Komaeda chuckles into his mouth with amusement, though doesn’t protest as Hinata peels the fabric from his body.

“Yes,” Hinata nods. “Want you in me. Please.”

“How could I say no to you?”

The press is easy, Hinata eager to have Komaeda’s cock lined up with his entrance, still wet as he slips himself inside. Komaeda, hovering over him, Hinata’s arms slung around his neck.

“You’re taking me so well.”

“This-“ Hinata groans low and heavy, momentarily made dizzy by the sensation of being filled up, and still sensitive. “This is how I always take you.”

“I know,” Komaeda’s praises brush the shell of his ear. “Always so good.” 

The praise makes Hinata weak- makes him easy. He lets out a needy whine as Komaeda begins to rock into him, nails digging into Komaeda’s shoulder blades for purchase. Finds he’s almost entirely useless at doing anything except letting his head fall back on the pillow, overtaken by soft moans that grow in volume in tandem with the heat coiling in his gut.

It’s almost like he can’t get enough.

Wrapping his legs around Komaeda’s legs to urge him _faster_ , it’s all he can do to keep himself from getting lost in the pleasure. But funnily enough, doesn’t feel like he’s going to fall apart. Komaeda above him, Komaeda inside him is the only thing keeping him together, and so he’s safe. 

“Perfect,” Komaeda manages to get out between grunts, burying his face into Hinata’s neck to kiss the stretch of skin there. “Don’t know how I got so- hah- lucky. Perfect. And you’re all mine.”

“Yours,” Hinata repeats with a desperate nod, eyes squeezed shut. He gasps when Komaeda thrusts into him just right. “ _There_ -”

A frantic rush of limbs, Hinata is more than content to let the molten iron in his veins consume him as Komaeda rolls his hips into that spot every time, the soft words of affection spoken against his neck flowing into each other until they fill his head, too loud to hear his own moans above them. More than content to fall apart, because he knows Komaeda will put him back together.  
He comes again, this time the sensation truly unwinding him- strung so tightly from the moment he’d woken up with a racing heart, it takes him so strongly, he nearly blacks out. Unsure of how long it takes after that, his limbs tingling and floating as Komaeda rocks into him, helping him coast through his orgasm until succumbing to it himself. 

With every breath that passes, wrapped in Komaeda’s embrace, Hinata can feel himself knitting back together at the seams.

Finally, Komaeda gathers the strength to pull out of him, too winded to even cringe at the sensation, Hinata’s grip on the other ensures that he doesn’t go anywhere. Glad he has the sense not to comment on the clinginess, Hinata tucks himself against Komaeda’s side. If only for a few minutes.

“Good?” Komaeda asks, the cool metal of his fingers resting against the slope of his waist.

“Very,” Hinata confirms. 

And it doesn’t hurt anymore. 

“This one,” Hinata mumbles. Sleepily he presses a kiss to the faded scar wrapped around Komaeda’s neck. “For how long you’ve been by my side. Thank you.”


End file.
